


At the Toss of a Coin

by zaubernuss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Post-War, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaubernuss/pseuds/zaubernuss
Summary: Ten years after the war, the outrageous resurrection of  an 'old blood' tradition by one of the Golden Trio causes quite a scandal at the Ministry's Midwinter Ball. From one moment to  the next, Hermione finds her life in shambles. However will she live on?
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 121
Kudos: 379





	1. A Woman Scorned

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Difficult Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779578) by [Sixpence_Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixpence_Jones/pseuds/Sixpence_Jones). 



> Like other readers, I couldn't stop wondering what might have happened after the scandalous events we witness in Sixpence_Jones' one-shot 'A Difficult Man'. This is my take on it. It doesn't really matter which story you read first - you will figure out in what predicament our heroine finds herself and what lead to it either way. :) 
> 
> Thank you so much, Ouatic-7, for beta-ing this story and helping me put it into legible English!

The unavoidable crack of apparition momentarily stunned the nocturnal wildlife into silence when Severus and his newly acquired bride materialised in front of the high iron gates just outside the wards of his home. He had taken up residence at his ancestral abode a year after the war when somewhat tragic family circumstances had forced it upon him. Yet it had been a blessing in disguise. The thought of still having to live at Spinner’s End after it had been infested with a particularly nasty kind of half-human vermin made him shudder. The alternative of dwelling in the Hogwarts dungeons and still having to deal with dunderheads on a daily basis was almost worse.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked, trying to get her bearings in the darkness. He was reluctant to let go of her hand which had been firmly cupped in his since they had made their exit from the ministry ballroom. It was hard to even make out the outlines of the house looming at the end of the driveway, and the flag-stoned path was dangerous in high heels. Confused as she probably still was, she didn’t even attempt to move away from him but rather clung to his hand as if it was the only thing that kept her from going under.

“Welcome to Prince Manor,” Severus offered, unlocking the gate with a flick of his wand and leading the way up the curved path towards the building.

“This is where you live?” The opulence of the place, obvious even in the dark, didn’t match her vague image of his upbringing, which she suspected to have been difficult. But, then, she didn’t really know anything about him: only that he had taught, spied, and almost died at the end of the war; that he had mysteriously survived and just as mysteriously vanished from public life after his recuperation and exoneration. Since then, nobody had heard or spoken much of the ex-spy, ex-Death Eater and ex-headmaster.

“Have you expected to be dragged off into a cave or some kind of underground dwelling, considering what your friends always used to call me?” She couldn’t see the arching of his eyebrow in the dark, but she sensed it in the tone of his voice.

“I never had any reason to spend much time considering where you might live,” Hermione answered, pulling her newly transfigured coat closer around her. She was cold. “I couldn’t possibly have imagined that I would find myself walking home with you some day.”

She would not have believed any of what had happened tonight if she had not just lived through it. When dressing for the ministry event, she would never have thought that she would become the cause of scandal by the end of the evening. She would never have believed that her own husband would embarrass himself and her with his drinking and then publicly humiliate and repudiate her. And she certainly had not foreseen that she would leave the party on the arm of one Severus Snape, whose role in the drama that had just unfolded yet remained to be evaluated.

Clinging to his arm nevertheless - more for stability than for comfort - Hermione shuddered as they stepped up to the main entrance.

He threw her a sidelong glance, trying to determine her state of mind. While she showed all signs of shock - the paleness, the clammy hands and the shivering – her demeanour was surprisingly composed. Probably the calm before the storm. Judging by what he remembered of her from the past, he still expected her to go off like a Weasley fire cracker any minute. Or worse, she could dissolve into tears. He hoped he would get her inside and settled for the night before that happened. He had no wish to witness the emotional breakdown she was probably entitled to.

He unwarded the main door and held it open for her, beckoning her to enter.

“Fancy,” murmured Hermione, taking in the curved staircase, the tapestries and marble floors of the entrance hall. It felt a bit like stepping into a museum: it was spotless and stunning with its architectural splendour, but it didn’t exude the feeling of a place that was actually filled with life. He was only one person, after all. “Have you been living here for long?”

How she could even make small talk in the face of this devastation was beyond him. But he was grateful that for once she kept a firm rein on the many questions that must be running circles in her mind and would probably pour out any minute.

“For a couple of years. The house was my mother’s inheritance when her father died. Now it’s mine.”

He led her into the study. A flick of his wand ignited the fireplace, another for the mood lights placed along the walls. Hermione stood staring at the bookshelves, her predicament momentarily forgotten as she took in the sight and smell of volumes over volumes of old, leather-bound books.

“Of course,” he muttered, his voice heavy with irony. “I should have anticipated that this is what would finally render you catatonic. Please, make yourself at home, Miss Granger.”

“Is that even my name?” she wondered, stepping closer to the fireplace and holding out her hands to better absorb the heat.

“I’m not sure. But whatever it is, I definitely won’t call you Mrs. Weasley.”

“Please don’t. It’s not a name I care to hear right now. Call me Hermione. After all, we are apparently married.”

So she _had_ realized what had happened. “Let me take your coat, Hermione, while you have a seat. You look like you’re about to faint any minute.”

Hermione allowed him to help her out of the garment, only now taking conscious notice of the change in apparel and remembering the transfiguration he had done on it. Frowning, she took in the deep, velvety black and the elegant fur trimming that now adorned the hood. “Why did you change it?” she asked, an accusatory note in her voice. Is that what she could expect from him as her new husband? That he would make choices for her without regard for her wishes? Truth be told, it wouldn’t be so different from what Ron had done most of the time, so she probably shouldn’t be upset. Still, she felt she had to make a point. “I liked it the way it was!”

“Did you?” A raised eyebrow expressed his doubt at her assertion.

Hermione deflated and shook her head with a sigh. “No. It was dull and boring. But it was a birthday gift so it would have been rude to make any changes to it.” Perhaps she had always been way too polite to make her wishes known, always compromising for the sake of harmony, eager to keep the peace.

He smirked as if he had just proven a point. “Topsy!” he said with a raised voice and, before Hermione could wonder about the exclamation, a house elf appeared. Severus gave him her cloak and his own, almost burying the small creature beneath the mountain of cloth. “Put this away and tell Turvey to prepare the guest suite.”

“Topsy? Turvey?” Hermione asked, incredulous. “Did you name those elves?”

“I certainly did not. It was my grandmother’s form of humour. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No.” She adamantly shook her head. “I need something stronger. A lot stronger. A Firewhisky would be nice.”

“I don’t have Firewhisky.”

Right. He had told her that he didn’t drink. But he surely couldn’t mean ‘not a all’? A non-drinking husband would be a welcome change, for sure, only not in this particular moment. “Anything else then,” she compromised. “As long it has lots of alcohol in it.”

“Very well,” he sighed and opened the door of a side cabinet. “I think there was an old bottle of Scotch in here. I understand that it’s supposed to be savoured, though, not downed.”

“Fine, you can savour it then, or not drink at all. But I will. I’m either getting drunk or hysterical. Your choice.”

“By all means, drink, woman!” He offered her a full glass, half of which she finished as soon as he let go. He gave her a disapproving look. Hopefully over-imbibing was not a Weasley habit.

Her coughing fit, and the tears that immediately sprang to her eyes, told him that it wasn’t, at least not hers. He took the glass out of her hand and wordlessly offered her a blanket, seeing that she was still trembling. She accepted it gratefully, wrapping it around herself like a shield. He called the elf again and ordered tea.

“Tell me again what happened tonight, please?” she eventually asked, finally addressing the events of the last hour. “And don’t use big words. I think I need to hear it a few more times plain and simple before I might actually start to believe it.”

“You have just been spectacularly divorced by your husband and sold to the first bidder,” Severus obliged, not being one for sugar-coating anything. “Doubtlessly, the epic scandal will make the headlines tomorrow morning.”

“Sold and bought,” she repeated, anger creeping back into her voice, “from one man to another at the toss of a coin. How is that even impossible? Surely, selling one’s wife to another on a drunken whim cannot truly be lawful!”

“As lawful as the possession of house-elves, unfortunately. You know how archaic the wizarding world is. It knows no divorce. Offering your spouse’s hand up for marriage in exchange for a monetary compensation is the only way to get out of unwanted matrimony - unless one considers widowhood. You should look at the bright side of this.”

“There is a bright side?”

Severus mentally applauded her use of sarcasm in the face of personal tragedy. “Sure there is. You have gotten rid of your embarrassing husband. Don’t tell me that’s something you never wished for. This surely didn’t happen out of the blue of a blissful marriage.”

Topsy arrived with a tray and put it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Severus filled a cup, adding a splash of milk to it before passing it over. Hermione took it in slightly shaking hands, wrapping herself in the blanket again. How did he even know how she drank her tea? A lucky guess, probably. Not even Ron knew - he always gave it to her black. “No, we weren’t blissfully married,” she admitted reluctantly. “We haven’t been happy for a long while.”

“I’m amazed to hear that you have ever been happy at all, considering who you were married to. When I read the news about your betrothal, I would have bet all my money that you would kill him within the first year. Astonishing that you both managed to survive so long.”

“We were happy in the beginning. Or at least we pretended to be. The war was over, we were the lauded heroes of the wizarding world, and everybody’s eyes were on us. We only found quiet and normalcy with each other. Everybody expected us to live happily ever after. Getting married just seemed meant to be.”

“What utter rubbish!” he exclaimed disdainfully. “Marriage is about the last thing that makes people eternally happy.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Hermione asked the question that had been burning on her lips from the moment he had tossed the galleon. “Why did you take Ron up on his ‘offer’ and claim me as your wife?”

He sighed. “I’m not quite sure myself. I didn’t exactly have time to think it through. Maybe I simply enjoy getting one over Potter and his sidekick too much. Maybe I just wanted to see the shock on all of their faces, dammed hypocrites they are. If they were really so appalled by my and your husband’s actions, why did nobody intervene?”

“You married me on the spur of the moment just to be spiteful?” That seemed a bit extreme, even for him.

“As I said, I mostly reacted on instinct. Having been put in such a perilous position could easily have ended badly for you.”

“Meaning it was some kind of rescue mission? How was I even in peril? I would still have gone home with Ronald if you hadn’t literally bought me off him.”

“Doubtful. There were plenty of supposedly reformed Death Eaters present in case you hadn’t noticed. Malfoy, were he not married, would have been the first to jump to the occasion and make an offer, but Parkinson would have been a likely candidate, too - his wife recently died. And I daresay you’d find yourself in an entirely different predicament right now if it had come to that.”

Parkinson? Pansy’s father? No one had managed to tie him to Voldemort, but he was certainly a supporter of pureblood ideology. Ever since the war, he’d been trying to make nice with the ministry, presenting himself as a liberal. Knowing Pansy, now a Malfoy, he clearly was not. Hermione shuddered to think that one of Voldemort’s sympathisers might have offered for her. She hadn’t even thought of that, and she really hoped Ron hadn’t either. Were there really men who would have wedded her purely for revenge? Had her former teacher just saved her again from a worse fate? She could not bring herself to feel fully relieved at this point. So far, he had been nothing but decent, probably afraid that she would turn on the waterworks. She wondered herself why she hadn’t yet. Her life lay in shambles, and all she felt was disbelief and numbness.

“Forgive me if I don’t thank you just yet,” she said, overcome with a new feeling of dread when realizing her own vulnerability. “I’m still trying to determine in what situation I find myself here with you now. As I understand, you were just given full marital rights at the toss of a coin, and I am now entirely at your mercy. I’m sure you’ll understand if I find that a bit unsettling!”

He had even made a rather suggestive remark before whisking her away... about how much he would like to make her shudder. What were his intentions with her? She couldn’t really imagine that he would force her into anything against her will, but she would also never have guessed that her husband of ten years would put her up for auction.

“You are afraid that I will force myself on you?” Severus asked, incredulous. “What became of _‘You always protect the people who depend on you’ from an hour ago?_ ”

“I guess after the evening I had, I don’t feel particularly trusting right now,” Hermione responded flatly.

‘Small wonder,’ Severus thought, accepting her point. The one who had sworn eternal love to her had just tossed her to the wolves. He had been the quickest one to latch on. He probably wouldn’t feel particularly trusting either in her shoes. Some reassurance was probably in order.

“At the moment, my only intention is to get you into bed before this ‘calm-in-crisis-mode’ that you’re currently running in fails you - which I am frankly amazed has not happened yet. And to clarify: I mean into _your_ bed, not mine, however tempting the idea of having you there entirely at my mercy might be.”

“Don’t... just please don’t make jokes like that tonight. My ability to recognize humour or sarcasm is seriously compromised at the moment.” She wasn’t able to think straight and her emotions were all over the place. She didn’t even know how she felt about him. The kiss with which he had sealed the deal had not helped matters at all. At first, she had simply been shell-shocked, unable to react. Funnily enough, her next thought had been that she _ought_ to push him away. And yet she still hadn’t reacted. It was all very confusing.

“Which is why we will talk more about this tomorrow,” he said firmly, and added a bit more gently, “This is not the end of the world, Hermione. Think of it as a chance for a new beginning.”

“To be sold into slavery?” She shot him a look that clearly asked, ‘Are you kidding me?’

“Is that what marriage is to you?” he asked back.

“It is, if I don’t get a say in who I’m getting married to! I’m all for the freedom of choice.”

“Yes, I remember,” he said drily. “That’s why you tried to liberate the house elves in your fourth year, no matter whether it was in their best interest or not. But then, you also married Weasley, which was definitely not in your best interest. You did it by free choice, too, and look where it got you.”

“Point taken. But... despite all our problems... I just would never have thought that he would stoop so low as to stab me in the back like this. Drinking always turned him into a person I didn’t like very much.”

“Drinking often turns people into the worst they can be.” Which is why he didn’t drink. He was unpleasant enough at the best of times - who knew what he would turn into when drunk? His father?

Hermione shook her head. “No. Drinking just brings out the side people manage to hide while sober. Ron has always been prone to jealousy and fits of temper. He always acts rashly and sometimes aggressively.”

Severus frowned. “Did he ever become physically aggressive towards you?”

“No. I would never have remained with him if he had, no matter what the wizarding world thinks about divorces. He just often acted without thinking, especially when angry. And he was angry with me earlier today.”

“What he did was unforgivable. You’re better off without him. Come, then, Hermione, let me show you to your room.”

He led her out of the study and up the stairs, to a bedroom with an en suite bathroom at the end of the hallway. It was spacious and just as tastefully decorated as the rest of the house.

“I realise you don’t have any sleepwear with you. Allow me to send Turvey with one of my own shirts which you can transfigure to your liking. I trust you will find everything else you might need in the bathroom. If you require anything else at all, just call Turvey.”

“Thank you.” Hermione sat down on the huge bed, looking lost and defeated.

For some weird reason he didn’t care to examine, he felt the urge to say something consoling. “Go to bed and try to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll get you a vial of Dreamless Sleep. I suggest you take it.” A bit awkwardly he added, “Things will look brighter tomorrow.”

“Will they?” she asked, raising a sceptical gaze to meet his.

He grimaced. “No, probably not. But, at least, I tried.”

“Tried what? Being comforting?”

“Well, I’m apparently trying all kinds of new things.” Like getting himself a wife. “Supposedly, they become easier with practice.” New things. Not the wives, most likely.

“Thank you again. I appreciate the effort. I guess I don’t loathe you quite so much as I loathe Ron after all.”

“Lucky me! Good night, Hermione.”


	2. A Marriage of Convenience

_Thank you all so much for the amazingly supportive reception of this fic! I never expected to receive so many reviews, and I admit it made me fear that I won't be able to live up to your expectations. I really hope you all did not expect a lemony epic, because I never really intended to write more than three chapters. If you've read my other fics, you know that I'm not a friend of drama, drawn-out misunderstandings and struggling until a relationship is finally getting anywhere - which might have been a (probably more realistic) route the original story could have taken. I prefer to let my characters take the rational approach; discuss things openly, think them through and come to an agreement. For an after-war Severus and someone as rational as Hermione, I believe this is also a valid interpretation, though of course by far not the only possible one. If someone wrote a different continuation of Sixpence_Jones' story, I'd love to read it! Thanks again to ouatic-7 for proof-reading! If you still spot mistakes, they are entirely mine!  
  
_

* * *

  
  
**A Marriage of Convenience**

  
When Hermione woke up the next morning – well rested thanks to the Dreamless Sleep potion she had taken – the sun was already higher in the sky than she was used to seeing it when getting out of bed. Last night had taken a toll on her, and her body had taken the time it needed to recuperate.

Now that she was awake, though, all her turmoil came rushing back. What was she supposed to do now? Simply accept she was now the wife of the former Potions Master because of a ridiculous and archaic law, and move on with her life? What did he expect of her? A marriage of convenience?

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least, they had a few things in common. Like her, he loved books and quiet; unlike Ron, he was able to hold a conversation for longer then five minutes, even if it wasn’t about Quidditch.

She and Ron had ceased talking a long time ago. They had lived their lives next to each other, but never really with one another. It might have been different if they had ever had children. Doubtlessly, they both would have devoted time, interest and emotion to their offspring. But Hermione had never gotten pregnant. Ron was sure that she was barren. After all, he had the Weasley genes while she was the only child of parents who had not managed to conceive again after her. He had been so convinced that the fault lay with her that he had refused to even see a healer about it. If the fertility potion she had been taking for months didn’t help, nothing would, so there was no point.

Right now, Hermione was extremely grateful there weren’t children’s lives destroyed as well. Would Ron have put her up on the market, had she been the mother of his children? She couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility, and that alone told her all she needed to know about the state of their relationship.

It had been rotten for years. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? She hadn’t been happy – she had just carried on, telling herself that it was unreasonable to expect connubial bliss eight years into marriage. Of course they would run out of things to say to each other. Of course the interest in sex would decline with both of them working overtime and falling into bed tired every night. And apart from their families – his family as she didn’t have one anymore – they had no common interests. So it was Sundays at the Weasleys, the occasional dinner with Ginny and Harry, and things they didn’t do together – Ron going off to play Quidditch with the guys and she burying herself in books in some library.

Really, looking back, one could wonder how and why they had held on such a long time.

Hermione looked out the large, leaded glass window. It oversaw huge gardens – mostly lawns with some scattered trees, and large flowerbeds closer to the house that must look gorgeous in summer. She would never have thought that the austere Potions professor lived in a place like this. She wondered what the story behind his inheritance might be. Maybe he would tell her now that she was his wife.

Did that mean she was going to live here with him? What did he do workwise, these days? Just play lord to the manor?

Well, she wouldn’t get any answers to these questions if she stayed cooped up in the guest room. She had to get dressed and go down so they could talk. Which brought her to her next problem... what to wear. A cleaning charm on her underwear would do for once, but she was reluctant to dress in her evening gown for breakfast.

She transfigured it into a simple day dress, but was not very pleased with the result. It was impossible to change the material. It was still a satiny silk, and looked more like a nightie – rather sensual and seductive, not really a style she was trying for. Just when she was about to transfigure the borrowed night shirt for a second time, one of the elves – was it Topsy or Turvey? – popped into the room.

“Turvey heard that Mistress is awake. Master is sending you this if Mistress is inclined to wear it.” The elf held out a dark burgundy robe for her. “Master transfigured one of his coats for Mistress and hopes she likes it.”

Mistress? Is that what she was now? The mistress of this manor? She had never wanted to have house-elves to serve her. It was a bit disconcerting given her history.

“Thank you, Turvey,” Hermione said, relieving the elf of her burden. “I will try it on. Please let your master know that I’ll be downstairs soon.”

Turvey elf bowed to her and vanished with another pop. Curious, Hermione held the robe up to have a look at it. It was made from very soft, fine-spun wool – much like the frock coats Snape usually wore. It also closed in the front with a small row of buttons, but the part beneath the waist flared out and was rather voluminous, giving the dress-like coat a most feminine touch. The colour was very pleasing too.

After using the adjoining bathroom – someone had provided the basic body care products like shampoo, toothpaste and even conditioner – Hermione put on the new robe. It fit astonishingly well, and was, to her surprise, quite flattering. Severus had stuck to his rather severe style, but instead of the high-closed neck he preferred to wear, the robe now had an extra wide, slightly upstanding collar and a low-cut neckline. Hermione liked it. She looked very mature and sophisticated in it. It was an outfit she could easily picture Narcissa Malfoy wearing, and, as much as her character left to be desired, the woman had impeccable taste in clothing. Who’d have guessed that Severus Snape had a talent for seamstress charms?

She twisted her hair into a matching up-do, securing it with a charm. Even her high heels didn’t look too over-the-top with this dress. Yes, this would definitely do. Very befitting for a mistress of a manor. If that’s what she really was now. Time to find out.

Hermione found her way down the grand staircase and back into the study, where they sat last night. It was empty now. Thankfully one of the elves appeared again.

“Master is awaiting you in the dining room,” Topsy explained. “If Mistress will please follow me...”

The dining room was just as splendid as the other rooms she had seen in passing. Very traditional, for sure, but not overbearingly opulent. In fact, the entire design bore the hallmark of Severus Snape: elegant and understated. A bit severe, it felt strangely impersonal and wasn’t exactly exuding warmth. Nothing that couldn’t be helped with the odd book lying around, a pair of shoes that had not yet made it into the closet, or some scattered toys to stumble over. Now wait – where the heck had that come from?

Flustered at her own, traitorous thoughts, Hermione approached the well-laid breakfast table. Severus had obviously been waiting for her so they could have breakfast together. He had nothing but a coffee in front of him and the Daily Prophet.

“Good morning. I’m sorry I slept so long,” Hermione excused her lateness.

He gestured for her to take a seat. “That’s fine, I only got up myself an hour ago,” he assured her, putting the newspaper aside. “You look ... much better this morning.”

He had almost said ‘lovely’, but that was not a word he ever used, and he wasn’t about to start now. He wouldn’t have used ‘stunning’ either, although that was certainly an adequate description. Who’d have guessed that the little know-it-all could give Narcissa a run for her money, the way she carried herself in a decent wizarding robe?

Hermione raised a brow at the poisonous paper that now lay folded next to his plate. “Anything interesting in the news?”

He snorted. “I guess you could say that. Apparently, there has been a royal balls-up at the Ministry of Magic’s Midwinter Ball yesterday. Some ginger dunderhead caused quite a stir. Would you like to read about it?”

“Thank you, but if it’s as dreadful as I suspect, I’d rather keep my appetite.”

“It is rather dreadful,” he conceded, and gestured Topsy to start serving breakfast. “It might please you to hear, though, that the sympathy lies mostly with you.”

“Mostly?”

“Some people think that Weasley must have had a valid reason to resort to such drastic measures.”

“I guess I cannot blame them for thinking that.” Considering what she had finally acknowledged about the state of their marriage, it was probably true. It usually took two to quarrel. Hermione looked at the plates that were floated at the table. It all looked delicious, but she found that she didn’t have much of an appetite.

“Hermione?”

She raised her head and looked at her new husband questioningly.

“Stop searching for a reason,” Severus said in a serious voice. “Nothing you could have done would justify the way in which he chose to end your relationship after eight years of marriage. It’s inconceivable. An utter disgrace.”

She smiled, and reached for a piece of toast. He was right. Ron Weasley would neither get to ruin her self-respect nor her appetite. “You know... maybe it’s not even true that I don’t like you,” she offered, feeling a bit more light-hearted. In all honesty, she was starting to like him much more than she would ever have guessed.

“I’m happy to hear that, considering you’re my wife, for now.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that. “For now? So is that still open to change?”

Severus hesitated a brief moment, putting his fork down and dabbing his mouth with a napkin before speaking. “A marriage only becomes irrevocable with consummation,” he said, eyeing her carefully to see her reaction. “There is a thirty day grace period... to make sure the bride doesn’t come with attachment, no doubt.”

He had carefully skirted the topic yesterday, not wanting her to have to think about being intimate with her former teacher when she had already so much to process. She might not have expected marital connubialities to become an issue so soon, possibly not at all. Maybe she thought they could have a platonic relationship, being husband and wife in name only. But it was not how the law worked.

If she was shocked, she managed to hide it well. Requirement of the law or not – being married to someone usually implied sexual relations at some point, so, of course, the thought had occurred to her. She had tried to not ponder it too closely yesterday. Her emotions had been all over the place, and just analysing her rather shocking reaction to his kiss had been too much to tackle.

She had never thought about him like that. Of course not – he’d been her teacher for the longest time. As such, he had been rather asexual to her. The kiss surely had changed that. When finally in bed last night, waiting for sleep to come, she couldn’t help replaying it in her head. It had been a surprisingly nice kiss. His lips had been firm but gentle, much like the grip of his hand. It had felt warm and strong, comforting even. He had rather nice hands. That she had noticed before, having seen him prepare ingredients in class for so many years.

Did she feel attracted to him in that way? She tried to look at him objectively. While he had always looked a lot older than his actual age when she was still in school, he hadn’t aged much during the last ten years. He must be approaching fifty by now, but his hair was still jet black, and he didn’t look as stressed out and haggard as he used to. He seemed to have gained a bit of weight, and he wore it well. Yes, his nose was still a bit on the large side, his teeth a bit irregular and not as snow-white as Hollywood actors had made fashionable. But he smelled nice and clean, his eyes were arresting, and he still exuded power and possessed a commanding presence. While he was not classically handsome, he certainly wasn’t unattractive either.

“Yes, I had gathered as much,” Hermione said calmly. “It’s a sexist and archaic law. Which is why I suspect I won’t be a free and single woman after thirty days if the marriage is not consummated?”

“No. If there is no consummation, you will find yourself back on the market, so to speak. Unless Weasley graciously agreed to take you back. If he doesn’t, your hand in marriage is up for offers again, to be given to the next highest bidder. He will surely hope for that outcome as he will most likely have realised by now that he should have gotten a great deal more money for you.”

Hermione paled at his words. Given that she had taken the first part of his explanation rather well, Severus suspected it was the idea of being auctioned again and not necessarily the idea of becoming intimate with him that unsettled her.

“Like women are cattle men can put on the market!” she spat, confirming his conclusion. Some colour returned to her face with her agitation. “This law needs to be abolished! I will see to it, I swear, if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Faulty and outdated as the law is, it was never been intended to be used that way,” Severus pointed out. “It is the only acceptable way to get out of unwanted marriage: Setting the wife up with a new husband and settling all assets and benefits in a monetary agreement. Usually, it is done with all parties’ consent, including the bride’s. However, witch auctions have been known to happen, as much as they are considered disgraceful nowadays, and all participants – save the bride – face public scorn.”

“All participants?” Hermione enquired. “Meaning The Prophet had something unflattering to say about you too?”

“Quite a bit. Actually, that I dared offer for you caused more outrage than Weasley putting you up for auction in the first place. But that was to be expected. After all, I’m the perfect villain; Weasley can’t even seem to pull that off properly.”

“Just wait and see what his family’s reaction will be. I daresay public outrage will be the least of his worries then.”

“You might take some comfort from his stupidity: The bride-price paid by the new spouse is supposed to reimburse the ex-husband for all that he loses with his wife, which is everything a couple jointly owned. Weasley was offered compensation of a galleon and accepted.”

Hermione stared at him, mouth agape. “Are you saying that everything that was ours – the house, our funds, the furniture we bought... it’s all mine now?”

“Everything that was either yours to begin with or acquired during your marriage,” Severus confirmed, smirking. “I suppose it’s the wizarding way of saying that a woman has value. And it’s why the husband gets paid compensation.”

“So... Ron is basically knutless now?”

“Not exactly knutless. The galleon I paid him is rightfully his to keep.” Severus’ sneer widened, and Hermione couldn’t help gloating as well.

“Oh my gosh... Talk about poetic justice!”

“Do your assets make you a good catch?” he inquired.

“You wish!” They had gotten married two years after the war, just when Ron had earned his Auror robes and Hermione had started her career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They had both been enthusiastic about bringing changes to British Wizarding Society and, as prominent figures of the resistance, the newly installed government under Kingsley Shacklebolt had welcomed them to their ranks with open arms. As Ministry wages were based on seniority, they didn’t make much money in those first years. Most of it went for the rent for their flat, until they bought their house four years ago. It had been too big for them, but at the time they had planned on starting a family soon. Well, that hadn’t come to fruition, and they were still paying off the loan they had taken. No, she was definitely not a rich woman, but it didn’t look like he needed one.

“The house is not paid off yet, so technically, it still belongs to Gringotts. But without my salary, Ron won’t be able to afford it. I guess he’ll find himself homeless soon. I must say, it’s immensely gratifying revenge.”

“I told you there is a bright side to this. However, the price for your hand is likely to go up exponentially if your hand in marriage becomes available once more. Doubtlessly, Weasley has realised by now what a colossal mistake he’s made. He’ll be wiser next time and might still get a good deal out of it.” Severus sobered. “If you were to be auctioned again, Hermione, chances are that you would end up with one of the wolves for a husband after all. Parkinson, or even Nott, would certainly bid for you, and considering how little concern for your safety your ex-husband displayed last night, he might be swayed by the amount of money they have to offer.”

“So it’s either I stay married to you, or I’d have to Avada myself in order to stay out of some Death Eater’s grip?”

“Technically, there is a third option. You could find yourself a suitable husband.”

“Within thirty days?” Hermione snorted. “Well, I guess I’ll have to consult the list I’ve been keeping with all the marriage proposals I received over the years.”

“Sarcasm delivered in such a dry tone, I’m impressed. Maybe you should stay married to me; we would make quite the couple.”

It was said half jokingly, but there was an undertone in his voice that made her look up. “Are you serious?” she asked, not entirely sure what answer she was hoping for.

Severus had given the question quite some thought last night while he lay restlessly in his bed and wondered what the hell he had done. He had quickly realised that the situation he had brought upon them offered no easy way out. Even if Weasley came crawling back – which he probably would – he was reasonably sure that Hermione would never forgive him. In all likelihood, she would greet him with a long-term hex. There was no way she could go back on the auction block, not even if she found a suitor of her liking. He’d have to be able to compete monetarily, and still might lose if Weasley turned out even more petty and mean than he had already proven to be.

There was only one safe way for Hermione to be passed on to someone more reputable: By becoming his wife first. Then, all dealings with potential suitors would be up to him, and money wouldn’t be an issue. But for that to happen, they had to consummate their marriage first.

And that's where the complications began. He had no idea how she felt about that. Was it something she’d reluctantly consent to in order to be rid of him? In that case, he’d have a hard time going through with it. He’d be a liar if he claimed that he wasn’t interested – she had certainly blossomed into an appealing woman and, added to her physical attractiveness, she carried a level head on her shoulders with just enough viciousness to earn his respect. Also, she was intelligent, loyal and had a dry humour. If not for her age and the fact that she had once been his pupil and a member of the infernal Golden Trio, he had to admit that she was the perfect woman for him.

Which was exactly the reason why it was unwise to risk forming an attachment, which was very likely to happen if they took things to the next level – namely to his bedroom. If the thought of being intimate with him repulsed her, he would prefer to keep his distance rather than engage in activities for which only one party could raise enthusiam. Unfortunately, they didn't really have much of a choice.

If – however unlikely it may be – she felt any attraction for him as well, he really saw no reason why they shouldn’t stay married. Other than public opinion, that is, which he didn’t give a damn about. He suspected Hermione might not care about it either.

So was that really an option – turning this sham of a marriage into something meaningful? Could they – could he – really make it work?

“Severus?”

Hermione’s questioning voice pulled him out of his thoughts and reminded him that he had still to answer her. Was he seriously considering this?

He shrugged, trying for a nonchalance she would probably not fall for given the length of time it had taken him to answer, “It’s entirely up to you. I’m a man of my word, but as you’re doubtlessly also aware, I’m not a man any woman in her right mind would consider for marriage. Besides, I’m old enough to be your father.”

Those were mostly issues she would have to deal with. He was, in all honesty, a difficult man who was set in his ways. And he didn’t even have the physique to make up for it. Although he felt confident there were areas he could compete with an oaf like Weasley... The dunderhead had always lacked finesse, creativity and dexterity in school. His cluelessness and rather short attention span were only made worse by his overwhelming need for instant gratification in all things. One had just to watch the boy eat. Severus shuddered to even think about his bedroom manners, or rather the lack thereof.

“Well, you’re not my father, so that is not an argument at all,” Hermione countered. His forthright answer had taken her by surprise. He was serious about this, and he would not be the one to try and annul this marriage. That alone made her breathless. Could he truly want her for a wife? Was that the true reason he had been so quick to step in and take Ron up on his offer?

“Is it so hard to imagine that I could want a woman at my side, just like every other man?” Severus asked, not liking her obvious bafflement. However cold and distant he might be with most people, he still was made of flesh and blood.

“No, it’s not. I’m just surprised that you’d consider me for that role. I always thought you despised me.”

“That’s a rather strong word. I found you a nuisance when you were a pupil, mostly. And I stand by it. But apart from being a know-it-all you were also smart, studious, level-headed and loyal, character traits I value. As much as it was a spur of the moment decision to toss that coin, my subconscious must have found a certain appeal in the idea of having you for a wife, all consequences included.”

Hermione smiled. “I never much liked you when you were my teacher, either. But I always admired your brilliance and, later on, your bravery.”

“You are the Gryffindor, Hermione. And I can only guess how much bravery it must take to face your options. But you don’t have to decide anything right now. You have thirty days to figure out how you want to play this.”

“Thank you,” Hermione answered after a brief pause. “I don’t think I need thirty days. I’m certainly not going back to Ron, and I’d rather kill myself than to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The truth is there isn’t anybody else I can imagine being married to better than I can imagine us staying together.”

It was true, Hermione realized. She had once married for what she thought was love, but was in truth only a remnant of a teenage infatuation, paired with familiarity and feelings of friendship. Had her mind been more involved in her decision-making at the time, she would have realised that she and Ron had almost nothing in common and very different needs. But she had silenced that tiny voice of doubt, simply for convenience. Because she had been scared of the alternative – being left alone.

Now, fate – or her former husband, depending on how she looked at it – had dropped her into the hands of this man who she would never have considered for a husband. And she found the idea far less disturbing than she would have thought.

Hermione realised that Severus had still to react to her announcement. She searched his gaze and found him mostly stunned. “Don’t look so incredulous, now. You were the one who suggested it in the first place! We do respect each other, that’s a fundamental thing. We don’t expect never ending bliss to begin with, something that can only end in disappointment. We are both aware of the difficulties, but willing to make it work. And we would both love to stick it into people’s faces.”

He almost had to laugh at that. Yes, right. He would pay gold to do that. A galleon didn’t even begin to cover the enjoyment he would get from seeing the shock on their stupid faces.

“Still...” Hermione added a bit hesitantly, “while I cannot deny finding you attractive, I would like to have a little more time to get to know you better before we... consummate our marriage if that’s alright with you?”

“I’d prefer it that way myself.” It would be terribly awkward to proceed to the bedroom just to seal a contract. It would probably not set a good tone for their marriage, either. He’d rather have some time to seduce her properly - the fact that she wasn’t averse to the idea made the endeavour ever so much sweeter.

She frowned. “Is that something the ministry will know about? Are they able to monitor the status of our marriage somehow?” Last thing she wanted or needed was some ministry officials, her ex-husband and Death Eaters out for revenge tracking her mating schedule.

“No,” he assured her, “they aren’t. We are officially married, just like we would have been if we had been handfasted in the traditional manner. The ministry would only know something is amiss after those thirty days, if nothing had happened between us.”

“Good. So we don’t have to tell or justify anything to anyone.”

“What if your friends ask?”

“If I have slept with you? They wouldn’t dare! Well, Ron probably would. And I would let him know that it’s none of his damned business what I do or do not do with my husband.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have your opportunity soon enough. A couple of owls arrived earlier this morning. Turvey directed them to the owlery as they would not release their letters to us. When you are done eating, we can go for a walk and fetch them.”

On their way to the owlery, which was set a bit apart from the building, they passed a lovely, overgrown gazebo that promised a nice, shady retreat on hot summer days, a greenhouse in which, as Severus explained to her, he grew rare plants for potion ingredients, and a porch swing attached to a huge tree, overlooking a small pond.

It all had a touch of wilderness to it... the lawns were sprinkled with weeds that would probably be wildflowers in summer, the grass was a bit too long, the rosebushes had taken over the flower beds, and the stables were empty. His grandparents, Severus told her, had possessed horses, but Severus didn’t know how to ride having grown up in a city as the son of a mill worker.

He was a bit at a loss what to do with the manor all by himself. The two elves had enough to do to keep the inside of the house in order, and he didn’t much care for gardening. Hermione liked the garden just like it was in its slightly neglected, dormant state, especially now, bathed in the subdued light of a winter morning. It felt almost otherworldly.

The owlery was small, but sufficient for the two owls inhabiting it. Right now, there were three others waiting who still had letters tied to their feet. One, Hermione recognized immediately as Harry’s new owl, Sir Walter – Hermione had never found out where he had come up with that name. The other was from her in-laws – or rather, her ex-in laws. And the last one was hers and Ron’s owl, Hermes. His was the first whose letter Hermione untied, and the fact that Hermes simply settled down again on his perch proved what Severus had told her: he was now rightfully her bird, and he obviously considered this owlery his new home. If not explicitly told to wait, owls usually returned to where they belonged.

Hermione unrolled the piece of parchment, which had just one sentence scribbled onto it in Ron’s rather untidy scrawl: “Hermione, where are you?!”

She huffed. How typical. He hadn’t even grasped the enormity of what he’d done, and was utterly clueless about the consequences. He had probably woken up hungover and befuddled, only to find his wife missing. Did he even remember with whom she had left yesterday evening?

Harry’s letter at least helped to shed some light on the matter. After her and Severus’ exit, Ron had drunk some more while Harry and Arthur had tried in vain do to some damage control at the Ministry. By the time they had realized their efforts were for naught and that there was no way to revoke the situation Ron and Severus had created, Harry and Ginny had taken an almost passed out Ron home and put him into bed. They weren’t sure how much he would remember, but they promised to be back the next morning and fully inform him in no uncertain terms about the tremendous stupidity of his actions.

‘Please, Hermione’, Harry wrote, ‘I know you’re probably not okay right now, so I can’t beg you to let me know that you are. Just give me a sign of life, anything please, so I know Snape hasn’t locked you away somewhere, or done worse. Merlin, we really hope you’re all right! Please, write if you can, or I will send out the Aurors to find Snape’s hideout!”

“Harry is threatening to bring in the cavalry if I don’t let him know that I’m still alive,” Hermione sighed. “You don’t happen to have any parchment nearby?”

To her surprise, Severus pulled a small notepad and an ink pen out of his robe pocket. He huffed at her surprise, “I grew up among Muggles, Hermione. And I’m not so ideologically blinded to not recognize technical superiority when I see it. This is a lot more practical than parchment and quill.”

He enlarged the notepad and gave it to her so Hermione could quickly pen down a few words. ‘Hold your horses, saviour of the wizarding world – I don’t need rescue. I’m fine. Not entirely, but I will be. I’ll send you a full report soon. Love, Hermione. PS: Feel free to hex my ex-husband.’

She tied the parchment to Sir Walter’s foot and sent him off. The last owl message, from Arthur, was rather long. Hermione skimmed it – it was mostly expressions of shock and outrage, offered excuses on behalf of their son and the promise to do whatever they could to help. Then, Arthur explained in full technical detail what Severus had already told her last night – about the magical consequences of the deal and how to possibly circumvent it – namely by waiting for the thirty days to expire and go back to Ron. From the tone of the letter, Arthur already suspected how unlikely that was.

“Too bad that Ron didn’t have a bit more of Arthur in him,” Hermione muttered. “He’s really a decent guy and has a good head on his shoulders.”

“I take it, then, that the he and Molly have not repudiated you as well?”

“No. They are outraged. Though to be fair, they are also outraged about what you did.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough. Given that it wasn’t entirely selfless, I can’t claim to have merely rushed to the rescue.”

“You mean you wouldn’t have done it for, let’s say, Lavender Brown?”

“Are you sure you have regained your full mental capacities that you even ask such a ridiculous question?” He looked downright horrified at the thought.

“I take that as a no.” She grinned. “What am I supposed to write to Ron? I can’t possibly put all my fury in a letter.”

“Well, you can if you send him a Howler.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. “I always wanted to do that, but I always lacked a recipient. Do you know the charm?”

“I do.” He showed her the wand movement and incantation to charm the paper. “You only have to tap the letter once to start the recording, and another time to stop it. If you need to start over just do so. And please allow me to retreat from the tower before you do the actual ranting.”

She grinned and thanked him.

“I trust you will be able to find the study afterwards? Meet me there when you’re done.”

Severus quickly retreated from the owlery, but not quick enough to not hear her yelling at the paper from a distance.

“Where the hell do you think I am, Ronald Bilius Weasley? I’m exactly where you sent me – with my new husband to whom you sold me for a galleon, you sick bastard! And you should pray that you will not see me anytime soon, because right now, I’m in a mood to hex your balls off and reattach them to your chin, so that the whole world can see just from looking at your face what an absolute ass you are! If you are still as clueless as I suspect, go to Harry or your father, they will enlighten you as to what a colossal cock-up you made of our marriage, you utter moron!”

Severus smirked. Nice. He really liked the part about the repositioning of Weasley balls. He needed to find out if such an operation was possible – hopefully, he could at least make it last until a healer managed to sort Weasley out.

* * *

They spent the next three days at the manor just waiting for the dust to settle while slowly adapting to their new roles as husband and wife.

Severus had suggested sending Turvey over to her house to collect Hermione’s clothes and personal items. Given that both, the house and the elf, now belonged to her, it was a simple thing to do, though Hermione wouldn’t have thought of it. Having elves at her command would take a while to get used to.

This evening, when Ronald would come home from work, he would find that all his former wife’s personal belongings had magically vanished from their house, including all the books. Not that he would miss them. Hermione was happy to have her clothes back. Even so, she put on the dress Severus had transfigured for her once more, and informed him of her intention to take him with her as her stylist on her next shopping trip to Madam Malkins. After all, the robes made the witch, and dressing a bit more like a distinguished pureblood might help to get the traditionalists among the wizards take her more seriously.

Hermione told him that Ron wouldn’t have approved. He found the more formal everyday robes snobbish and pretentious. Not that it had ever been an issue: they couldn’t have afforded them anyway. Mostly, they had stuck to Muggle clothes, which were cheap and comfortable. Sadly, it wasn’t possible to simply transfigure a simple cotton shirt into something as gorgeous as the robe Severus had made from his expensive, high quality frock coat. Severus agreed that it was a bit ironic given that it was possible to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion, something nobody ever needed in real life.

They talked a lot over these three days. Severus told her the long and rather dramatic story of how he had come into possession of the manor. Hermione told him about her marriage, the good and the bad times, and she cried – for the love and for all the years she had lost. Severus had offered her a handkerchief and a cup of tea, and when they had gone to their rooms much later, he kissed her good-night.

They carefully formulated their ideas about their future. Hermione wanted to pursue her career at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were still so many old laws to review and re-adjust to modern society, the ridiculous marriage laws being the first to be repealed. Severus had taken to commercial brewing after the war, selling rare and expensive potions to a rather exclusive apothecary in Ireland. He also did a lot of research, working on developing new and improving existing potions. The considerable number of patents he held yielded a nice, yearly sum in royalties. He was also currently writing a new potions book for students as the ones available on the market were horribly outdated. This met with Hermione’s full-hearted and enthusiastic approval.

She dived into his library, amazed at the many old and rare volumes to be found in the shelves, and they found out they both liked to listen to classical music while reading. He told her that he enjoyed cooking. Hermione admitted that she sucked at it. This evening, he made them roast-beef with Yorkshire pudding, Hermione’s favourite, and they had apple pie for dessert.

They also spoke about the war. About Dumbledore’s manipulations, about Harry, about some of what they had both experienced. They didn’t dare share their darkest memories yet. Hermione never mentioned Malfoy Manor, and Severus didn’t share what he had seen and done in the service to the Dark Lord. But maybe one day, they would know and trust each other enough to open themselves up to one another.

This evening she told him about her parents. How she had erased their memories of her and sent them away to Australia where they still lived oblivious to the fact that they had a daughter. She told him how guilty she felt for failing to restore their memories, and how much she missed them. This time, when she cried, Severus offered her his shoulder and promised that he would try his best to help her.

Then he had a cup of tea and Hermione a glass of the red wine he had found in the cellar, and they listened to Mozart. This evening, when it was time to go to bed, they both retreated into his room and Hermione rediscovered her long-lost passion in her new husband’s arms. It would be so much more than a marriage of convenience, this time.


	3. A Happily Ever After

_A/N: Thanks, guys, for all your kind words! Here now the conclusion of the story._   
_And once again a huge 'thank you!' to Ouatic7 for beta-ing!_

* * *

Hermione stepped into the entrance hall of her home with a relieved sigh. Friday, finally, with an entire weekend ahead of them. With the weather this nice, maybe they could go down to the shore... not for swimming anymore, but surely for a nice stroll along the cliffs.

She took her jacket off to put it on the hanger when her gaze fell on the small side table next to the staircase. Oh good! Severus had picked up the books she had ordered from Flourish and Blotts last week! Just right in time for a nice, relaxed evening in front of the fireplace. The days were still pleasantly warm, but it got chilly as soon as the sun set. In her opinion, this was the best time of the year – spending the day outside and then snuggling up to her husband in the evening with a cup of tea and a good book.

Hermione stepped out of her business heels and noticed the pair of trainers lying rather randomly near the staircase. Obviously, Sebastian was home from school. He never put his shoes into the closet, no matter how many times she asked him to. Well, at least he had remembered to take them off before going upstairs; she counted that as a success. She picked them up and turned towards the closet, nearly stumbling over the toy train Helena must have abandoned mid-play. Shaking her head, she picked it up as well. Hopefully, it wasn't falling on her face again that had caused the distraction. Having only mastered the art of walking recently at a rather late age, she tried to make up for time lost by running faster than her little legs could carry her yet.

It had been quite a surprise when only a couple of months into her second marriage, Hermione had found herself pregnant. The unexpected news had put her in emotional turmoil at first... What would Severus say? They had never discussed children; neither had given much thought to the possibility. Hermione had believed herself infertile, and the likelihood of Severus fathering children had seemed low, considering he was almost fifty. So neither had thought about protection, and, for once, Hermione didn't have a contingency plan.

While she had longed for kids when married to Ron, she now loved the job she had at the ministry – she had worked so hard for it! Back then, everybody had expected her to become another Mrs. Weasley, and somehow, Hermione had never thought to protest the idea. She had been so young, wanting so desperately to find her place, to have a family again. She had never questioned what _she_ really wanted out of life. Only with Severus encouraging her – even pushing her – to pursue her dreams, had she finally found herself and true fulfilment. Having kids had not been part of the plan anymore. While Hermione had felt spontaneous joy at finding herself with child all of a sudden, she just couldn't picture herself as a stay-at-home mum.

Contrary to what she had expected, Severus had been thrilled at the news. And a little smug, too, at having proven his virility and having outdone Weasley once again, as well as a little apprehensive about his own parenting skills. Having her husband's full support had made it easier for Hermione to get used to the idea, and in the end, everything had fallen in place. Severus worked from home anyway and was rather flexible regarding his hours. They had two very enthusiastic elves to help as well, so they were in the lucky position to be able to balance work and children with relative ease. And Severus had turned out to be a much better and more patient parent than teacher. Of course, it helped that their kids weren't dunderheads.

"Severus? I'm home!" Hermione called, when a quick glance into the study revealed it to be empty. At this time of the day, he was more likely to be found either in his laboratory or upstairs in the playroom with the kids.

At the sound of her voice, Teddy, the kid's beloved Kneazle, rounded the corner, rubbing against her calves and purring contentedly when she pet him. "Hello beauty! At least someone is here to greet me. Where is everybody?" Intelligent as he might be, Teddy couldn't answer her question, and wasn't interested in seeing her go anywhere, anyway.

"Topsy? Turvey?" Hermione called, and the latter popped into view.

"Master is being outside with the children," the elf informed Hermione, wringing her hands distractedly. "Missy Sophia fell off her broom."

"Oh my, did she hurt herself?" Like any mother, Hermione didn't even wait for an answer and rushed outside, expecting the worst. There was no need for her panic, though. She found her husband sitting on the swing, a still slightly sniffling five-year-old on his lap. The sight always warmed her heart, or at least it did whenever there were no tears involved and her own heart wasn't beating up her throat.

"Severus! What happened? Is she okay?"

"Relax, Hermione, the little minx is fine," her husband soothed her worries. "She thought she could outrace her brother on her play broom. Well, she couldn't. Tell me, why are all our kids such boisterous savages?" He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears and the mucus off his daughter's face.

"I don't know. Must be my Gryffindor genes." Hermione crouched down so she was on eye level with her daredevil daughter, who always had to prove that she was just as good as her brother in everything. "Hi, honey! Are you still hurting?"

Sophia shook her head. "No. Daddy hexed it all better."

"Making something good is charming," Sebastian, ever the know-it-all, lectured his sister. "Hexing is bad. And cursing is really bad, like when you say the f-word."

"Right", Hermione laughed. "So always be charming like Daddy and don't use curse words." She tousled her son's hair and kissed Sophia, who seemed to have regained her composure. "Now, where's my little angel?"

She threw a glance behind the rose-bushes next to the swing and saw her youngest daughter standing awkwardly next to the sandbox, shovel and bucket still in her hands.

"'Lena peed," her youngest informed her unhappily, looking down at her quite wet pants. Though she was progressing with her potty training, she was still having accidents, and they had obviously all been distracted with Sophia's broom incident.

Severus sighed and waved a quick drying charm at her. "That's okay, button. We'll get you all cleaned up in a minute. Sebastian, take your sisters inside and put away your brooms. Your mother and I will be coming shortly."

Sebastian nodded, grabbing his youngest sister's hand in one hand, his broom in the other. Helena let herself be hugged by her mom, and Sophia hopped down from her father's lap, picked up her own broom and followed behind.

Severus watched his brood wander off and got up to greet his wife. "Welcome home, darling," he said, only sounding slightly ironic. He sometimes wondered if there was less mayhem at the Ministry these days than at Prince Manor. "How was your day?"

"Actually, it was quite successful," Hermione beamed, putting her arms around his neck. "My last proposal for the amendment of the educational decree was met with approval from most of the committee members. I'm positive that they will pass it this time. It was a good idea to meet with Horatia Greengrass first and get her support. Thank you for suggesting it." Hermione gave him a kiss. "How was yours?"

He shrugged. "The usual. The modified base for the Wolfsbane has remained stable over night, even with the Re'em blood added. If adding the valerian root doesn't cause an unforseen reaction, I'm hopeful that this is the right approach to make the effects longer lasting. Sophia and Helena only fell and hurt themselves once each, so altogether it was rather quiet. Sebastian got a poor mark in his last math test – turned out he hadn't understood the principle as well as he thought he had. I went over it with him again, though, and I think the sickle has finally dropped."

Sebastian attended a regular Muggle school instead of being home-schooled like so many young wizards. Hermione and Severus both wanted their children to be familiar with the Muggle and wizarding worlds alike. Harry and Ginny shared their view on this, and Lily had insisted on attending the same school as her childhood friend. With the upcoming term, Sophia and Minnie, the Potters' youngest, would follow. James and Albus, the older Potter boys, already attended Hogwarts.

Severus was happy not to be teaching anymore, with a brood of Potters roaming the castle. Talk about history repeating itself... Lily, the spitting image of her grandmother with her father's eyes and her mother's hair, had been friends with Sebastian since their diaper days. It had been inevitable with Hermione, Ginny and Harry seeing each other regularly and insisting the whole family needed to come along ever so often. Harry and Severus still weren't best friends, but they tolerated each other well enough for the occasional get-together.

"Minnie wants Sophia to sleepover at the Potters' this weekend; Ginevra sent an owl earlier. Oh, and Lena actually made it to the potty in time twice this morning; she was quite proud of herself."

"Sounds like you had a pretty successful day too," Hermione said, smiling at his sun-kissed face. His complexion was healthier than ever now that he spent so much time outside. Running after the kids all day and taking care of the gardens and the greenhouse also kept him nicely in shape. Even well into his fifties, her husband was, in her opinion, a most attractive man. While his customary frown was still etched into his features, there were many laugh lines, too, and he was more relaxed than Hermione had ever seen him in younger years.

"You know what?" Hermione's face brightened thinking of the suggested sleepover. "I have a most wonderful idea: I'm sure Sebastian and Lily would love to hang out as well. Let's see if we can persuade Ginny and Harry to extend their invitation and send Helena to stay with Arthur and Molly."

Thankfully, her ex-in-laws had never ceased to consider Hermione their daughter. They had even adopted Severus into the family, becoming surrogate grandparents which their children otherwise wouldn't have nearby. The Grangers had preferred to stay in Australia after Severus had finally managed to restore their memories, just as he had promised. It still had taken him an entire year and all of his expertise in Legilimency and Potions combined. But eventually, the research, the experiments and the long hours spent in his lab had paid off. Restoring the relationship between Hermione and her parents afterwards had been an equally long and difficult process. They had missed more than ten years of their daughter's life and couldn't easily forgive that Hermione had taken the choice away from them. It had been Severus who had finally set them straight, telling them in no uncertain terms that they owed Hermione their lives, as they had, indeed, been high on the Dark Lord's hit list. That had finally brought them around.

"Foist our little heathens on other people and have a quiet evening to ourselves?" mused Severus. "Sounds wonderful!"

"Actually, I was thinking that the two of us could check into a nice hotel in Dublin and go to that concert we both had wanted to see... We could have a romantic dinner beforehand, and afterwards..."

"Yes...?" Severus was all ears.

Hermione kissed him again, then let her lips trail along his jawline. "And afterwards," she purred into his ear, "you take me up to our room..."

"Mm-hm..."

"... and peel the beautiful new dress I intend to wear for that evening from my skin... it's silk, it should slide well..." She nuzzled his earlobe. "And then you put your wicked mouth to work... and those beautiful hands... until I'm a trembling mess, fully at your mercy."

"How I love to make you shudder..." Severus murmured, tightening his arms around her waist and pressing her to him, showing her exactly how much he liked it. Hermione sucked in her breath. Even ten years into their marriage, her husband always managed to moisten her knickers with a few words and his apparent desire for her.

"Is that a 'yes' to my plan?" Hermione asked, boldly sneaking her hand to where his enthusiasm was most prominent in the confines of his jeans. Severus usually wore jeans and plain shirts when he was home – though nobody outside their family would ever spot him in anything but his formal robes. He had compromised on the black though, and would occasionally wear charcoal or navy to please his wife.

"It's a shouted hurray, wife!" Severus declared, taking her hand away before they could get into mischief. There were kids to attend to. "Send that owl out now."

Hermione laughed and obeyed. She had no doubt that Molly would agree to babysit Helena again. She was only ever happy when there were people around she could dote on, the more the merrier. Thankfully, Molly and Arthur always made sure that neither Hermione nor Severus ran into Ron at the Burrow.

After the fateful incident at the Ministry, they had first seen him again at Lily's baptism two weeks later. It had also been the first time Hermione and Severus made an appearance as a couple in public, and it had caused quite a stir.

On seeing her among the guests, Ron had been relieved, not having noted yet that she hadn't come alone. Up until then, he had still been convinced that Hermione had been held against her will despite Harry's assurances to the contrary. He had apologized to her in typical Ron fashion: blaming his actions on anger, the stupid law nobody could possibly have taken seriously, and the alcohol. He was hopeful that she had forgiven him by now, assured her he hadn't meant it and would, of course, take her back.

Hermione had been too flabbergasted at his audaciousness to even respond. When Severus, who had chosen that moment to appear by her side, had put his arm around her possessively and hinted smugly that it was too late for that, Ron had lost it, causing a scene once again by acting utterly disgusted, accusing Severus of having forced Hermione into consummating the marriage, calling him an ugly git and a lecher, who had ruthlessly taken advantage of the opportunity to get into her knickers. At which point Severus had drawn his wand and Hermione had punched Ron square in the face.

Arthur, bless him, had intervened before Severus could try out the spell he had researched and attach Ron's southern anatomy to his face... after all, there were children present. He had silenced his ranting son and pulled him aside, where Molly, Harry and Ginny had tried to talk some sense into him. In vain, of course – Ron had left outraged and feeling betrayed.

His anger had been even worse when he had been forced to move out of their house. After Hermione had settled her debt by selling it back to Gringotts, the Goblins had demanded a rent from him that he was by no means able to afford. Not able to find anything else on short notice, he had moved back in with his parents. According to Ginny, it irked him beyond measure to hear that Hermione and Severus lived in a fancy mansion while his own life was going downhill fast.

Not able to deal with the public disgrace on top of it all, he had eventually quit his Auror's position and accepted a rather measly paid job as a trainer with the Baknaufer Kreischrecken, a second-division German Quidditch team. He now lived in Freiburg and was rarely back in England to visit his family.

Going abroad had been the most sensible thing he could have done. Nobody there knew of his shameful past, and although he wasn't a celebrity on the other side of the Channel, he wasn't scorned either. He had never married again though. A previous marriage was always made known to a new-bride to be, it changed the magical signature of the groom. And who would want to marry a man who had sold off his first wife in an auction?

Since then, whenever they met, Hermione and Ron tried to ignore each other completely, an approach made difficult by Severus, who far too much enjoyed rubbing it in that she was _his_ now, and that _he_ was the proud and happy father of her children. He was never as openly demonstrative with his affections as whenever Ron was about, hugging and kissing his wife, and basically shouting 'mine' into Ron's face at every opportunity. Seeing them both with their kids and having the public accusation of his wife being barren thrown back into his face so prominently probably hurt even more. Consequently, Ron avoided the Snapes like the plague.

Stepping into the owlery, Hermione saw a foreign owl sitting on one of the perches. It had a rather suspicious, pink coloured parchment attached to its foot that had Severus' name on it, surrounded by hearts. Hermione snorted. Surely, not again?

She relieved the owl of its burden and gave it a treat so that it would take off. Just as she had suspected, it was another fan letter to her husband. He had gotten quite a few of them in the aftermath of the baptism, and the occasional one ever since. A young (and daft – Severus' words, not hers) new journalist at the Prophet, having witnessed Ron's embarrassing behaviour, had been very impressed with the united front Severus and Hermione had presented, especially since Hermione left no room for doubt that she was Hermione Snape now and intended to carry that name until her death.

The witch had made some discreet inquiries among the guests and had subsequently presented a rather romantic take on the events at the ministry to the reading audience. This had turned the tide for Hermione and Severus in public opinion, as she had painted Severus as a knight in shining armour who had selflessly rushed to rescue a damsel in distress. An unauthorised biography emphasizing his bravery, his spying for the light and his protectiveness for the women he loved, had further cemented people's convictions that he was a misjudged and unrecognized hero. Since then, Severus had acquired quite a fan base among young witches – much to his chagrin. The piles of fan mail he received (and promptly burned) would have made Lockhart jealous.

Hermione grinned and pocketed the letter. It was always amusing to watch its reception. Most likely, her husband would refuse to even open it, but she could always read it out to him. He would probably lament again how much he had preferred being the greasy git of the dungeon – someone who was fearfully avoided and left in peace. He grumpily did so whenever they walked through Diagon Alley and people didn't automatically scatter on seeing him approach.

Hermione knew that it wasn't true. Severus, as rarely as he showed it to anyone but his closest family, was happy. Thanks to an archaic law that she had since managed to get abolished, they had both gotten a fairy-tale ending: a happy marriage, three awesome kids, jobs they loved and a good income. Not to forget friends and family and public support.

Strolling back to the house, Hermione's eyes took in the beauty of their home: the blooming wild flowers amid the grasses that were gently swaying in the wind, the abundant fairy rose bushes bursting with colour, the swing and the sandbox behind the now fenced-in pond, the stables that had been made into a lavish laboratory, and the beautiful manor.

The toss of a coin had altered her life, but it had been, in every respect, a turn for the better.


End file.
